


Odpłynąć stąd

by RunningErrands



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: 18th Century, Alternate Universe - Pirate, Caribbean during the 1700s, F/M, French, Late-night fic writing, M/M, Polish Immigrants, Saint Kitts and Nevis, Spanish, polish, the West Indies
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-07
Updated: 2016-01-21
Packaged: 2018-04-25 06:32:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4950250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RunningErrands/pseuds/RunningErrands
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles Stilinski met pirates exactly three times as a child.  When he meets a specific pirate as an adult, a thirteen year old plan made by a badass pirate captain is set into motion, and Stiles has two options: fight like hell, or go with it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: The Pirate Queen

**Author's Note:**

> Pirates! I got this idea from listening to Moorside March from the Moorside Suite by Gustav Holst. (Seriously, go listen to that. I'm hoping to add in some scenes that follow the melody from Jupiter: The Bringer of Jollity by Gustav Holst as well. I'm a big nerd, I know.) 
> 
> This will be a multi-chaptered work, and I hope to be updating AT LEAST once a week, hopefully more like twice a week, and three times if I get really excited.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles met pirates exactly three times as a child.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter is really more of a prologue, which goes through Stile's childhood, but it IS important to the story. :)

The British Colonies in the Americas were not an easy place for Polish indentured servants. Not in the slightest. Perhaps that’s why they tended to flock together. Janusz Stilinski met Klaudia Kowalczyk when their masters’ children married. Four short years later, not a day after Klaudia’s servitude ended, they were married. A little less than a year later came Stanislaw Stilinski, named after the king of Klaudia and Janusz’s homeland. Just three months into Stanislaw’s life came the first attack that Janusz and Klaudia would experience in the New World. They lost a mirror that had belonged to Klaudia’s mother, but all three Stilinskis were unharmed. The second attack came when Stanislaw was five years of age.

 

June 6th 1710

  
“Tatus?” Stanislaw whimpered as the fires blazed in the streets. He had been fetching his father for lunch when the pirates came. He turned quickly, eyes bright with fear as he searched for his mother. “Mamusia?” He called, eyes watering with tears. He ran toward the small shack that served as home to the Stilinskis. He reached the door and ran in, immediately clutching his mother’s skirts in terror.

  
“Co się stało , ptaszek (1)? ” Klaudia asked, a small smile on her face.

  
“Są źli ludzie, mamusia.” Stanislaw whimpered. ”Przybyli nad wodą. (2)”

  
It was just then that a tall, powerful looking woman burst into the room. She had wild black hair that cascaded down her back and lips of deep red, reminding Stanislaw of his mother’s tales of Kings, Queens, and other Nobility in Polska. “What valuables do you have?” She demanded, head held high.

  
“Hm, I do not—“ Klaudia cut off, looking to her child to help her with the still foreign words.

  
“My mama doesn’t speak the King’s English well.” Stanislaw said softly, partially hiding behind his mother’s skirts. “I don’t think we have any val-ew-a-bles.” He pulled his mother’s skirt up to hide his nose, so that only his eyes and the top of his head were shown to the woman.

  
“You are Polish?” The woman asked, face softening as she kneeled to Stanislaw’s height.

  
The small child nodded silently.

  
“You are just a little younger than my daughter.” She smiled, leaning forward.

  
Stanislaw’s eyes widened and he jolted backwards, tears welling up in his eyes.

  
“Oh, love. I won’t hurt you.” The woman smiled kindly. “What is your name? And your mother’s.”

  
Stanislaw hesitated, looking up at Klaudia to ask if he should tell the strange woman. Klaudia nodded, putting a hand on his shoulder protectively.

  
“I’m Stanislaw, like the King of Polska. My mamusia is Klaudia.” He explained.

  
The woman paused a moment. “You probably haven’t heard yet, Polska has a new King now, love. His name is Augustus.”  
Stanislaw frowned. “Augustus number three?” He asked, holding up three fingers.

  
“No, no.” The woman shook her head, not unkindly. “This is Augustus the Second again. He just took the throne back from Stanislaw again.” She explained with a smile. “My name is Talia Hale.”

  
Klaudia went rigid when she heard that, recognizing the name of the notorious pirate, but said nothing.  
Talia stood, taking Klaudia’s uncomfortable posture as her cue to leave.

  
“That’s a fine boy you have there, teach him well, and he might make a good pirate.” Talia winked, and turned away, exiting the way she had come, closing the door and carving an X in it with her sword.

  
That summer, Stanislaw decided that he would rather be called Stiles.

 

The third attack came when Stiles was nine years old, and it came at a much higher cost.

 

August 18th 1714

  
Stiles was working at making soap with his mother when the bells started to ring, announcing a raid. He stood up straight, wiping sweat from his brow as he listened. After a little bit, another, lower bell sounded. He stood rigid. Pirates. At least when the French attacked, they had the decency to leave the women and children be for the most part. Pirates, they didn’t care who they killed.

  
Stiles pulled his mother toward the cliffs on the side of the island, hoping to hide in the caves. She was beginning to lose her hearing, so she hadn’t heard the bells. “Mama, tą drogą! (3)”

  
Klaudia beginning stumbled after her son, trying to keep up as he raced over the rocky terrain that he knew well. They were almost out of the little village when a greasy man stepped into their path.

  
“Where do you think you’re going, beautiful? Wouldn’t you care to join the party?” He slurred.

  
“Please, my mother doesn’t speak English well, and she’s hard of hearing.” Stiles begged, playing up the slight accent he had picked up from his parents.

  
“Stand aside brat, I’m not talking to you.” The man sneered, raising his sword, but lowering it again pretty quickly.  
Stiles stepped in front of his mother.

  
”Mamusiu, ten człowiek chce cię skrzywdzić. Biegnij do tatusia (4).” He said loudly, his voice wavering with fear.

  
”What gibberish are you speaking?” The man scoffed. “Step aside or I’ll run you through.”

  
“Just leave my mother be.” Stiles insisted, planting his feet even firmer.

  
“Have it your way.” The man raised his sword and moved to stab Stiles.

  
Stiles squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for pain, but it never came. When he opened his eyes, his mother was standing in front of him, the sword sticking out of her side. His eyes widened in shock, and he caught his mother as she fell, lowering her to the ground as gently as he could.

  
“Mamusia?” He asked, tears filling his eyes.

  
“It’s your own fault, for not moving, brat. Now step aside before someone else gets hurt.” The man sneered.

  
“Harris.” A strong, feminine voice spat coldly. “Did you kill this woman?”

  
“She’s not dead!” Stiles yelled, squeezing his eyes shut as he covered the wound with his hand.

  
“Don’t speak to the Captain that way!” The man, Harris, barked, moving toward Stiles.

  
“I’ll deal with you when we get back to the ship.” You were supposed to stay in the town, the village doesn’t have much of worth for pirates. Leave. Now.”

  
Harris grumbled, but shuffled off toward the direction of the town.

  
Stiles looked up as he heard a shuffling sound. There was a tall woman wearing trousers. She pulled a pistol from its holster on her waist and aimed at Harris’ back, taking the shot before turning to Stiles. She crouched next to Stiles and pulled out her handkerchief, pressing it on the wound.

  
“G-get back!” Stiles stuttered, looking at the woman. “You’re a pirate! It’s your fault my mother is hurt!”  
“I’m helping her, child. Let me put my hands on her wound. If we’re lucky, we can keep her alive at least for a couple days. Harris was a lousy drunk, he didn’t hit her stomach or lungs.” The woman pressed her hands on top of Stiles, and he let her, lured in by the thought of his mother living.

  
“Is your name Stanislaw?” The woman asked quietly.

  
Stiles jolted, immediately turning to look at the woman. He said nothing, not sure if he should tell a pirate his real name. That awful man who had hurt his mother had even said she was the captain of a crew of pirates

  
“Answer me, child.” She encouraged. “Is your mother’s name Klaudia, and are you Stanislaw?”

  
“I-I go by Stiles now…” He stuttered.

  
“Do you remember me then?” She asked, moving one hand to place it on the side of Klaudia’s neck, counting her heartbeats.  
Stiles looked at the woman, before he had a mental image of curled black hair curling down a woman’s back.

  
“You’re Talia Hale, aren’t you.”

  
“I wanted to see if your mother would be agreeable to an arrangement if you were still the fine child I saw when you were younger. It’s obvious to me now, that you are. Not every child of your age would step in front of their mother to confront a drunk pirate. You must only be…seven? No, that can’t be, that would have made you too young last time we met…eight?”  
“I’ll be ten in a month.” Stiles sighed, used to people guessing that he was much younger than he really was.

  
“Ten? Then last time I was here, I was wrong. You’re a little older than my daughter.” She chuckled breathily, shaking her hair out of her face. “Where do you live, is your father around here somewhere?” She asked. “Put your hands on your mother’s wound and press down hard so that the blood stops flowing.” Talia instructed.

  
“My father went to Saint Kitts with the merchants to see the Governor about the most recent attack by the French.” Stiles explained, feeling dumb for having suggested that his mother run to his father in the heat of the moment. “We live a little bit further back down that way.” Stiles nodded his head to his right, not wanting to take his hands or his eyes off of his mother.

“Okay. We’re going to have to move her ourselves then. How strong are you?” She asked, taking off her coat and ripping out the silk lining, then tearing it into strips to bandage Klaudia.

  
“Umm…” Stiles hesitated. “I’m not very strong, but I’m sure that we can still carry my mother. She’s very light.”

  
“That’s good.” Talia nodded as she wrapped the bandages around Klaudia’s midsection. “Lift your hands then press down again once the bandage covers it.” Talia ordered.

  
Stiles did as he was told, repeating the action until there were at least three layers of bandages.

  
“We’re going to move her now, okay?” She asked, putting her hands under Klaudia’s back and knees. “Keep one hand on her wound, and then put the other under her back. Try not to let it curve too much.” Talia instructed, not waiting for a response, just picking Klaudia up, and letting Stiles scramble to do as he was told.

  
Stiles directed Talia toward their house. When they were inside, Talia set Klaudia on the bed that she shared with her husband.  
“Fetch me water from the ocean.” Talia ordered, looking toward where there was already a fire in their hearth.

  
Stiles ran to the Ocean, bucket in hand and his mind raced, finally processing everything that had happened. His mother had been stabbed. She could die now…probably would die… Stiles shook his head, telling himself that he couldn’t think like that. He fetched the water, rushing back to the house and only spilling a couple drops.

  
“Good, now put that in your soup pot, and put it over the hearth, let it boil.” Talia instructed. “Where are your mother’s sewing things?”

  
Stiles raced toward the small set of cupboards that the Stilinski family had after he put the water on to boil. He grabbed the small basket that contained his mother’s needles and thread. He set the whole basket next to Talia for her to use, a little confused.

  
Talia pulled out the sharpest needle she could find, then pulled out a match. “Light a candle with this, then put the needle in the fire so that it will be clean.”

  
Stiles raced, finding the candles his mother had made just the other day and lit one with shaky hands.

  
“Hurry, I need it quickly.” Talia hollered.

  
Stiles held the needle in the heat, and when the tip started to glow orange, he handed it to Talia.

  
“Good. I hear the water boiling, go get it for me, and bring it here.” She murmured.

  
Stiles poured the boiling water into a ceramic bowl, flinching when it splashed onto his fair skin. He brought the steaming seawater to Talia.

  
Talia immediately got to work, dipping her handkerchief into the water like the heat didn’t matter to her in the slightest. She dabbed at Klaudia’s exposed wound, wiping away any dirt there.

Stiles looked at the wound in terror. Blood kept leaking from his mother’s side, new blood replacing the old as quickly as Talia could wipe it up.

  
“Give me the thread.” Talia ordered quietly.

  
Stiles handed it to her, his hands shaky.

  
Talia threaded the needle easily, then, to Stiles’ horror, plunged the red-hot needle into his mother’s side.

  
“No!” Stiles reached to stop Talia, but she turned to look Stiles in the eye.

  
“Trust me. This is pulling the skin back together so that she doesn’t keep bleeding. If she looses too much more, she’ll die Stiles.” Talia calmly turned back to Klaudia, stitching her side closed as if it were an old pair of socks that she was patching.  
Stiles looked away after two stitches, unable to look at his mother’s mortality any longer.

  
When Talia finished with the stitches, she shooed Stiles from the room so that she could undress Klaudia and wrap her wounds properly. Stiles sat with his head in his hands as he stared at the ransacked village, sitting outside the door. He closed his eyes, not wanting to look at any more destruction. He didn’t open them until he heard a voice.

  
“Are you okay?” A young woman asked, cocking her head to the side, her expression unreadable.

  
“No.” Stiles admitted. “I fear that my mother is dying.”

  
The woman sat next to Stiles on the ground, sweeping her skirt under her legs. “That sounds terrible. At least you get to say goodbye to her then…I didn’t get to say goodbye to my father you know.”

  
Stiles nodded miserably.  
“How old are you?” The woman asked.

  
“Almost ten.” Stiles sighed, rubbing at his eyes. “Are you going to tell me that I shouldn’t be crying?”

  
“No, I think it’s good that you’re crying. It’s only foolish to lock up your feelings. When you lock up your feelings, they’re like…like gun powder.” She explained. “One spark, and boom.” She shook her head. “My brother locks up his feelings like that, and sometimes, he’ll just explode in anger, or sadness. Really, it’s the crew’s fault. They like to tell him that he can’t cry because he’s a man. He’s just fourteen though, I think that he’s not much of a man at all yet.”

  
“And how old are you?” Stiles asked, looking over the young woman.

  
“Seventeen.” She answered, holding her head high in the air.

  
“Why are you unmarried then?” Stiles asked curiously.

  
“My mother says that if I wish to stay unmarried, then I may do so for as long as I so please, and if that is forever, she would be perfectly happy for me to stay unwed as either a maiden or a courtesan. It’s of no business to you whether or not a man has me leashed by his side.”

  
Stiles flushed at the mention of courtesans and maidenhood.

  
“Oh please, what are you, unbreeched? Your parents must have explained to you the nature of the beast with two backs. My sister is just nine, and she knows that much.”

  
“Of course they have.” Stiles lied, making a mental not to ask his father about such a beast in the future.

  
“Of course you do.” The young woman rolled her eyes. “Well, I must find my mother, and I do hope yours doesn’t die.” She nodded to Stiles and stood. Stiles caught sigh of the dagger on her hip and held up a hand.

  
“Wait, is your mother Talia Hale?” He asked, hazarding a guess as he looked over the woman’s dark hair, pinned on top of her hair, her hazel eyes and sharp jawline.

  
“Yes…” The woman blinked, obviously surprised by Stiles’ outburst.

  
“She’s inside with my mother, but she told me not to come in until she had dressed my mother’s wounds.” Stiles explained quietly. “One of her men stabbed my mother. A dirty, rotten drunk by the name of Harris.” Stiles scowled, almost shaking in anger at the thought of the man.

  
“He’s dead, boy. You shouldn’t have anger for dead men. Keep it for the living.” She sighed, crossing her arms.Just as she said that, Talia opened the door.

  
“Laura?” She raised an eyebrow. “I suppose I have been taking quite a while, haven’t I?” Talia sighed and motioned them both into the house. “Your mother is asleep, and there isn’t a sign of an infection yet, but that doesn’t mean that it won’t come. You should have the healer in this village, or in the town, check up on her as soon as possible.” Talia motioned to a small sack on the table that occupied most of the kitchen space in the one room house. “That should pay for the service your mother needs.”  
Stiles nodded, uncertain as to whether he should accept the money or not. His father had always told him that pirates never gave anything for free, but his mother needed it, so he was sure that he could deal with any consequences later, if there even were any. Talia seemed awfully nice for a pirate captain, so perhaps there weren’t any strings attached.

  
Talia turned to leave, but stopped in the doorway. “One more thing actually…” She reached up to her neck and yanked off one of her necklaces. “This isn’t worth much, it’s just pewter, but if you show this to my men, they won’t hurt you, ever again.” She explained, tying the necklace around Stiles’ neck. “Do not show anybody this unless you absolutely have to, okay? Not even your mother or father.”

  
Laura looked to her mother in shock. “Mother, are you really going to let him—“

  
“Quiet Laura. Do not question your captain.” Talia barked, and Laura backed away like she had been physically struck. “Stiles, do you understand me? Show this to anybody who isn’t in my crew, and you could be in great danger, okay?”

  
Stiles looked down at the swirls of dark pewter that made up the amulet, but looked up and nodded, his stomach sinking with apprehension.

  
“Then we’ll be off. Take care of your mother and father love.” Talia kissed his cheek, and then breezed out the door, Laura following her obediently.

  
Stiles rushed inside to check on his mother and saw she was still asleep.

  
Klaudia slept for two days, and on the third day, she woke with a fever, an infection growing within her body. Stiles paid the healer as he had been told, but there was nothing to be done about it, and on the fourth day, she woke up around midday. Stiles dabbed at her brow with a wet rag.

„Umieram , moją miłość . Powiadom Janusz , że go kocham . (5)”Klaudia smiled lifting a hand to stroke along Stiles’ face.  
“Nie, mamusiu . Będziesz w porządku. Musisz być w porządku. (6)” Stiles insisted through tears.  
“Stanislaw…Musisz żyć długo. Chcę, żebyś znaleźć miłość . (7)” Klaudia hummed softly, a lullaby she had sung to Stiles when he was a child.

  
“Będziesz tam, kiedy znajdę miłość , mama . (8)” Stiles insisted, stroking the pale skin of his mother’s hand.

  
“Kocham cię, mój mały ptak. (9)” Klaudia smiled, eyes going glassy as more time passed.

  
“Kocham cię, mamusia. (10)” Stiles sobbed as he felt his mother’s hand go limp with death.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, now with translations!  
> \------------
> 
> 1 What’s wrong, little bird?  
> 2 There are bad men…they came over the ocean.  
> 3 Mom, this way!  
> 4 Mama, this man wants to hurt you, run to Papa.  
> 5 I’m dying, my love. Tell Janusz that I love him.  
> 6 No, mama, you’ll be fine. You have to be fine.  
> 7 Stanislaw, I want you to live long. I want you to find love.  
> 8 You’ll be there when I find love, mom.  
> 9 I love you, my little bird.  
> 10 I love you Mama.
> 
> Tatus is Papa, Mamusia is Mama, Polska is Poland.  
> \------------  
> (Btw, when Laura says "what are you, unbreeched?" That's referring to how in the colonial era, boys would be dressed in "coats" or dresses because they wouldn't be able to unbutton pants to use the restroom, so once they were able to wear pants, they were considered "breeched." (i.e. able to wear breeches) Look it up on Wiki, really interesting. :)
> 
> Hopefully you enjoyed, and special shoutout to my roommate for allowing me to type this up at 1am. (sorry, I had to get it out though...You're the real MVP)


	2. Allison Argent is NOT a Frog

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles is all grown up and now can do things like drink coffee, have a job, pay back debts...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, here it is already! Two days in and I've already uploaded two chapters! I'm pretty sure that calls for ice cream. :)
> 
> Also, PSA bronchitis sucks, but I've got medicine so that I can sleep now! Less sleep deprived hopefully means better written chapters, and chapters that are posted when I'm not slap happy.
> 
> Enjoy! Comments and Criticisms are always appreciated!

When Stiles woke up on the day of his eighteenth birthday, he wasn’t expecting much. His father had been climbing the ranks, now working directly under the Governor of Nevis, but they still didn’t have much. Stiles fed the hens in their yard and tended to the two goats and the one sheep they had. Then he had the day off. His father had to take a trip to Saint Kitts, so the tailor Stiles worked for took pity on him and had given him the day off for his birthday. Stiles made his way to the cliffs of Nevis, letting his feet dangle over the edge and laying back. He brought out one of the books his mother had brought from Poland. Now that his mother was gone, his father didn’t like to speak Polish, eat polish food, or celebrate polish holidays. Everything was done the English way. He had even changed his name from Janusz to John. Reading the Polish books his mother had left behind was Stiles’ only real practice anymore.

  
Stiles had only reached a fourth of the way into his book when the bells sounded. He almost launched himself over the side of the cliffs, but caught himself. He stood up, listening to the bells. Just when he had figured that it was the French raiding again, he heard the second, lower bell. Pirates. His hand immediately went to the pewter necklace around his neck. The last time to Pirates had come to Nevis, his mother had died. Stiles just counted himself lucky that his father had gone to Saint Kitts that day.  
Stiles debated staying by the cliffs, but figured that he should go to the village to help make sure that everyone was safe. He jogged back into the village and was met with a tall man with dark hair, hazel-green eyes, and a well trimmed beard. He stood with his crew behind him. He was talking to Master Darcy, the son of the man who had brought his mother over from Poland.  
“…Klaudia Stilinski.” Stiles managed to catch, his heart racing as he lurched forward, running up beside Master Darcy.  
“What about Klaudia Stilinski?” Stiles panted, fully aware that he was making a fool of himself. He hadn’t even brushed the dirt off of his trousers, and now his shirt was un-tucked and his vest was askew from the running.

  
The tall man looked Stiles over. “I’m looking for her son. I cam to collect on an old debt.” He explained stiffly.

  
“I-I’m her son.” Stiles managed to stutter out. Up close, the man was devilishly attractive. “But I don’t have a debt to you.”

  
“No. You have a debt to this crew. Eight years and about a month ago, my mother gave you a handsome sum of money. It’s time that you pay up now.” The man scowled, pulling aside the collar of his shirt to show a pewter necklace that matched the one Stiles had been given by Talia Hale.

  
“What? Nobody told me that I had to repay that.” Stiles’ mind raced. Even if he had known, he wasn’t sure that he and his father would have been capable of saving enough money to pay Talia Hale back.

  
“You didn’t figure that out yourself? Talia Hale was a pirate after all.” One of the crew members from behind the attractive man, a tall, sharp faced blonde muttered.

  
“I was nine years old!” Stiles protested weakly.

  
“And are you nine years old now?” The man at the front of the group asked, one thick eyebrow raised.

  
“Of course not.” Stiles’ cheeks burned with humiliation. “I don’t have your money though.”

  
“Just as I thought.” The stranger scowled, eyebrows forming a deep V. “You’ll be coming with us then.”

  
“Wait!” Stiles jumped as two men moved forward to grab him. “Can I talk to Talia Hale?”

  
“No.” The bearded man grunted shortly. “Grab him.” He turned, setting off toward a large ship that was moored in the distance. “Put him in the second row boat. I don’t want to hear his voice.” The man waved a hand behind him in dismissal.  
Stiles panicked, struggling against the hold of the men. “No, you can’t take me! My father’s not even in Nevis right now. He’s getting older, I have to take care of him!” Stiles babbled, trying to pull away from the men, but stopping when a fist made contact with his stomach, knocking all the air from his lungs. He gasped, but another fist connected with his face, shoving him into unconsciousness.

 

\----------------

 

When Stiles awoke, immediately his stomach turned. The scent of brine and stale air assaulted his stomach. He sat up, and immediately the nausea worsened as his head throbbed. He didn’t know how long he sat in the dark, but it felt like a lifetime. Eventually, a lithe young woman opened the door to the bilge, letting in a blinding white light. She was smartly dressed in trousers and a loose shirt, a sash tied around her waist to keep the trousers in place.

  
“You look bad.” She frowned, squatting next to the cell Stiles sat in. Her French accent washed over Stiles, and he scrambled backward, only having poor experiences with the French. “Oh, I won’t hurt you. I don’t hold myself loyal to the bourgeois, I am a pirate, not a frog.” She chuckled quietly. “I hear that you met our captain, didn’t you?”

  
“Talia Hale? I met her when I was younger.” Stiles explained, relaxing a little.

  
“Non, Talia has been dead for three years. Her brother took her place, but he is a-a…” The girl screwed up her face in thought. “Abruti stupide!” She shook her head. “We are loyal to Talia’s only son, Derek Hale.” She explained proudly. “He was the handsome man with the beard that you met.”

  
Stiles nodded, thinking back to how confidently the man had held himself. It made sense now.

  
“What is your name? You are polonaise? Your name is very hard to say.” She shook her head.

  
“You can call me Stiles. It’s easier than my name.”

  
“Je suis Allison.” The woman smiled, nodding her head to him. “So long as you behave, that captain said that I may let you walk about, come up to see the sun and the ocean.” She unlocked the cell.

  
Stiles stood and stepped forward, but fell backward on his ass when a sharp arrow was pointed into his shirt, tearing a tiny hole.  
“Be warned, garçon polonaise. I will not hesitated to shoot you. I am quick, and I have very good aim.” She warned. After a couple moments of utter terror for Stiles, Allison tucked away her bow and arrow. “Just a warning. As long as you are good, you should not die.”

  
Stiles nodded. “Message received.” He stood again, walking through the doorway cautiously. He stepped toward the sunlight, shielding his eyes from the harsh light. He stepped up on deck and felt his stomach swirl again as he looked around and only saw ocean in every direction. He sat down hard on a barrel. “How long was I asleep?”

  
“Only two days.” Allison shrugged, toying with the head of one of her arrows. “I will introduce you to the rest of the crew. Come this way.” She nodded, not taking her eyes off of the arrow.

  
Stiles’s mind balked, but he followed her anyways, hoping to have something to think of other than the fact that his father had been on his own for two days already.

  
“This is Isaac.” Allison nodded toward the tall, thin blonde that Stiles had seen on shore. “He’s also from France.” She explained. “He’s an ass, but you get used to him. He’s the First Mate.” She immediately whisked Stiles away to a couple of smaller boys who were arm wrestling on the side of the ship. “Liam and Mason. Liam’s a powder monkey, and Mason is a cabin boy. They also serve as swabbies when they’re not doing their jobs.” Allison tapped Liam’s head gently and he bared his teeth playfully. “Speaking of which, shouldn’t you two be swabbing the lower decks? When I was down there, it smelled like you two had a lot of work to do.

  
Liam grumbled as he walked away, but Mason willingly grabbed a pail and a mop to begin swabbing.

  
“Liam is a stray that Talia took in, so he’s grown up on the ship the entire time. Mason came in when we raided a plantation on Aruba.” Allison said softly. “He’s been here almost a year, but he still has trouble trusting the crew.”  
Stiles nodded, but barely had time to process the information before Allison sashayed over to a tall man and a shorter blonde woman. “This is Boyd, the Quarter Master. Boyd is his last name, but if you learned his first name, he’d have to kill you. Erica is his wife—“ The blonde raised an eyebrow. “Or rather, Boyd is Erica’s husband.” Allison chuckled. “She’s the weapons master here.”

  
“Good to meet you. I hear our good captain swept you off you feet to get you onto the boat.” Erica winked.

  
Stiles cocked his head. She was the first member of the crew to talk to him right off the bat. “Hey, you never know. Maybe Derek was swept off his feet by me.” Stiles ventured, crossing his arms.

  
Erica looked surprised for a moment, but then threw back her head in laughter. “I like you, boy. You’ll do well here, I think.”  
Stiles’ stomach sank a little with the thought of staying on the ship forever.

  
“Next we have our surgeon.” Allison sang, decending into the ship and throwing her arms around a darkly tanned young man who was organizing small buckets of food. “Allison!” He beamed, pecking her cheek and wiping the fish off on his pants.  
“Scott here is my beau.” Allison explained, a wide, dimpled smile on her face.

  
“Scott?” Stiles asked, cocking his head in confusion. “He sounds more like a Spaniard than a Scott…”  
“Oh, he is.” Allison laughed. “Nobody really knows why he goes by Scott.”

  
Stiles nodded, looking around the small surgery. “That’s quite the small crew.” He commented.  
“Oh, well we have more crewmembers, they’re just busy. I haven’t introduced you to Lydia, Parish, Jackson, Danny, Matt, Malia, or Kira.” Allison explained. “We have even more members than that, but they’re all on Peter’s ships. This one is the only one that Derek has complete control over.”

  
“Don’t let him hear you saying that though, the Captain likes to pretend that there aren’t any problems with Peter being the Captain.” Scott shook his head, putting the bowls of fish on the floor for the mousers to eat.

  
“Speaking of Derek’s wrath, we should get you to work.” Allison bumped Stiles’ side. “You ever worked?”

“Work?” Stiles asked a little apprehensive. “I was apprenticed to a tailor, but I’ve been cooking for my Tatus since I was small.” He paused for a moment. “How long do you expect that Derek will make me work on this ship?” Stiles asked quietly.

  
“You call him Captain.” Allison sighed, sitting on a nearby barrel. “You’ll work on this ship until Derek considers your debt to be paid. If you do exceptionally well, I can imagine that you would be able to leave in five years.” She shrugged. “Who knows though, you might find that you like it on this ship and stay forever. That’s what happened to Scott here.”

  
Stiles nodded, a little overwhelmed by the thought of being held on the ship for five years. He shook his head and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt. “So is that to mean that I’ll be cooking for your crew?”

  
“Yes.” Allison nodded. “Derek shot our last cook.”

  
“Eh…lovely.” Stiles nodded apprehensively. “How many am I to cook for then? I’ll need to see your supplies and your kitchen as well of course.”

  
“Well, we have 19 crew members, including yourself.” Allison explained. She kissed Scott’s cheek. “I’ll show you to the galley.”  
Stiles followed Allison promptly. He knew that if he did poorly, Derek would just kill him, so he decided that he’d be the best damn cook that Derek had ever had. He’d earn his way out before five years, and he would NOT stay. Allison would see. He had people that needed him much more than a spoiled Pirate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully you enjoyed this chapter! If you did (or didn't, but hopefully you did) enjoy this chapter, please leave a comment (or criticism) for me to read. I really want to gauge whether this fanfic feels like it's leading anywhere to readers!
> 
> Thanks for reading! Hopefully I'll be posting even more tomorrow! This project has me super psyched!!!


	3. Sauerkraut

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles meets some more crew members and starts working away at his job.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING!!! There are some kind of gruesome scenes where Stiles has to deal with maggots and rotting meat, I tried my best not to make it too gross or anything, but I figured that I should give fair warning before you read the chapter! 
> 
> I really wanted to get an update out for this, so I came up with this! It's a little bit last minute and more exposition focused than plot focused, but a lot of my effort is directed towards school, trying (and failing) to stay healthy, and toward sorting through information for this so that I keep inconsistencies to a minimum. Hopefully you'll enjoy anyways though! :)
> 
> P.S. There are translations for some of the slang from the 1700s, and the small amount of Polish in this chapter at the bottom of the page!

Stiles sighed and sat down on a barrel, taking a step away from the stove. He couldn’t leave it alone, lest the ship catch fire, but the heat from the fire was stifling, making him sweat in buckets. His shirt was practically ruined, and he was tempted to just take the darned thing off. He was among pirates after all. He wiped his brow and looked at the meat sitting on the small table he had for preparation. All the meat had been maggot infested, and Stiles had just finished pulling all the little worms from the meat. He peeked his head out the door and yelled over to Scott, whose surgery was just across the second deck

.  
“Scott, do you know what time it is?” He hollered. He needed to have supper ready for the crew to eat by seven Allison had said.

  
“It’s five.” Scott yelled back, giving a wave as he patched up a cut that Liam had somehow managed to get while swabbing the deck.

  
“Excellent.” Stiles sighed. He ducked back into the galley and picked up the meat, beef he thought, and tossed it into the pot that already held potatoes and celery. He looked through all the cabinets for spices to cover up the stench of rotten meat, but only managed to find thyme and salt. “Thyme it is, I guess.” He sighed, dropping several leaves into the water with a generous fistful of salt. He covered the pot to let it stew, and turned to explore what other options he had. He had already discovered the extensive collection of hardtack, as well as large amounts of rum, potatoes, and salted meat. He had yet to see much in the way of fruits and vegetables. Stiles pried open a barrel to his left and was hit with a sour scent. He blinked a couple of times and squinted at the vaguely green goop. He cautiously stuck his finger in the barrel and pulled it out. He cautiously tasted the mess and recoiled. “Sauerkraut?” Stiles coughed, shaking his head.

  
“That’s Derek’s favorite.”

  
Stiles turned around in surprise, flinging sauerkraut onto the wall next to him. In the doorway stood a young woman with fiery red hair, pale porcelain skin, and large brown eyes. She was dressed in a fancy blue dress, much more expensive than anyone in Stiles’ village would ever be able to afford. In a word, she was breathtaking.

  
“I’m Lydia.” The woman introduced herself with a faint Scottish accent, stepping into the kitchen and sitting down in the one chair at the table. She looked down at the bucket of maggots and made a face, but then brought her attention up to Stiles. “I’m the navigator, and Allison managed to convince me to come and introduce myself to you.”

  
Stiles was taken aback a little that such a delicate looking woman would be an active member of a pirate crew. He bowed a little. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” He nodded, his cheeks splotched faintly red.

“They call you Stiles, yes?”

  
Stiles nodded, eyes flicking to the bucket of maggots.  
“You already make a much better cook than the last one. He never really tried to pull the maggots out.” Lydia sniffed. “So, tell me. Do you have an education?” She asked, looking straight at Stiles.

  
“My mother taught me before she passed, Świeć nad jej duszą. (1)” Stiles nodded. “I can read the King’s English and Polish, and I know Polish History. She began to teach me a little of science and I know my mathematics fairly well.”

  
“How much do you know of mathematics?” Lydia asked, suddenly eager.

  
“Just what my mother could teach me.” Stiles shrugged. “She was the daughter of a member of the Szlachta (2), so she was able to have a good education, but most of what she learned was needlework and music.”

  
“Gingamobs! (3)” Lydia sighed, a frown on her face.

  
“Why is that so upsetting?” Stiles asked, flushing at Lydia’s choice of words.

  
“I am living on a pirate ship! Derek, Cora, and Danny are the only people on this ship capable of holding a discussion of higher learning.” She shook her head. “I suppose it’s good that you can at least read. That’s something that not the entire crew can do. Can you write as well? And spell?”

  
“I can.” Stiles confirmed.

  
“Excellent. I now dub you the scribe for whenever Danny is unavailable, because I am tired of it.” Lydia decided, standing up and taking a couple of steps away from the maggots. “I expect that I’ll see you at dinner then.” She promptly turned on one foot and marched her way out of the galley.

  
Stiles stared at the spot where Lydia had disappeared, still trying to sort out what exactly had happened. He shook his head and turned to get back to work. He looked at the sauerkraut and sighed, pulling the barrel closer to him.

 

7:00pm came and Stiles awkwardly rang the bell that sat right outside the Galley. He assumed that the crew was used to what that meant, and he waited, hearing boots stomping on the deck as the crew raced to grab their dishes and claim a seat on the deck. First to the bottom was Liam who sighed and kicked off his boots near a barrel to save his spot, then raced to stand in front of Stiles, holding his bowl and cup close to him.

  
“You can go ahead and grab some.” Stiles offered, gesturing toward the food.

  
“No, I have to wait for Boyd. He has the first dish today. Usually it’s the Captain, but he’s on watch, so he’ll eat in about an hour.” Liam explained with a roll of his eyes.

  
Stiles nodded, a sinking feeling that he was at the bottom of the list for who got to eat.

  
Boyd eventually approached, his bowl held out. Stiles took it and heaped stew into it, and then added the hard tack and a heaping spoonful of sauerkraut on top of it.

  
Then came Lydia, then Allison.

  
Allison leaned forward to whisper in Stiles’ ear. “Before you eat, you’ll need to run food to Cora and Derek. Derek’s in the crow’s nest, and Cora is in her cabin.”

  
Stiles nodded in thanks, knowing that he would have completely forgotten that Cora was even on board had she not told him to bring food to her.

  
Isaac, Erica, and Scott came through the line, then a disgruntled, handsome young man with another, much more tanned, but equally as handsome young man, and a third, paler and a little bit older young man. After that, the faces were all a blur, so much that he thought he might have served the same crew member twice, but he still only counted 16 servings that he gave out, leaving the last three servings. Stiles used the dishes he found in one of the cabinets in the galley, and set one serving on a tray to take to the mysterious Cora, who got the only pair of utensils. He brought the tray to the only private cabin on the ship and knocked gently.

  
The door swung open fairly quickly, revealing a frowning young woman. Her frown faded into a look of surprise when her eyes roamed over Stiles.

  
“Oh. I forgot that my brother brought in a stray.” She laughed quietly, looking down at her book and setting it on the desk next to the door. “So he made you the cook then? I really do hope that you’re a good cook.” She eyed the tray a little suspiciously. “I know that we haven’t stopped to restock food for a while, but is this seriously all you managed to cook up?” She frowned, taking the tray herself and setting it on the desk.

  
“Um, I’m Stiles.” Stiles awkwardly attempted to introduce himself.

  
“What a strange name.” She shook her head. “What is it short for?”

  
“Stanislaw.” Stiles scratched the back of his head sheepishly.

  
“I’m assuming for King Stanislaw of Poland?” She asked. “But then you chose a nickname when King Stanislaw fell from both power and favor. In which case, your parents must have named you around when he came to power, meaning that you’re around my age, yes?”

  
“A year older.” Stiles blurted out, to both of their surprise. “I met your mother a long time ago. She talked about you.”  
Cora was silent, and she was silent as if Stiles had physically hurt her. He was nervous for a second, wondering if he had touched on a bad topic.

  
“Yeah, my Ma was always one to brag about her kids.” Cora nodded lightly with a small smile. “Thank you for supper. You should come around to talk to me some time. I get bored in here sometimes, but Derek gets grumpy when I go out on deck because he’s afraid that I’ll get hurt or something.”

  
Stiles nodded. “I’ll come to talk with you some time then.”

  
“I’d like that.” Cora smiled, before gently pushing Stiles out of the doorway. “Now go get dinner to my brother before he gets grumpy.”

  
Stiles sighed and grabbed the second bowl in the galley and put together the food, and grabbed a tankard of rum as well. He made his way toward the crow’s nest just as Derek Hale was climbing down from the ragged rope ladder.

  
“Um…here’s food.” Stiles awkwardly stood to the side to wait as Derek set himself right from the long climb down.

  
Derek looked at the food gruffly and then took both the tankard and the bowl before turning to make his way to the wheel.  
“Wait!” Stiles called, trailing after Derek. “Can you help me with you know, uh, everything?” Stiles gestured around himself. “I don’t know where I’m to sleep…I don’t know how things on the ship work!”

  
“You’ll figure it out, all of the rest of them did.” Derek shrugged, his voice surprisingly soft as he walked away from Stiles.  
Stiles stood there in surprise before beginning to fume. Seriously? The guy forced him to stay on the boat to work for him, and then the guy didn’t even give him any help with figuring out everything on the boat. Stiles stomped his way back to the boat and sat down at his table, digging into his food. He grimaced at the taste, but kept eating. He hoped that the crew were just used to disgusting food, and that he wouldn’t get in trouble for the food tasting like maggots. Those were the thoughts running through his head when Scott stepped into the galley, laughing a little.

  
“Trying to kill the bowl?” He asked.

  
Stiles looked down and chuckled restlessly when he noticed that he had been picking at the edge of the bowl with his finger nails, leaving a couple of shallow gouges in the wood.

  
“Sorry, just thinking a lot.” He sighed, rubbing his forehead tiredly.

  
“I’m guessing part of it is because you’re irritated with the Captain.” Scott smiled, sitting down. “He’s really not good with people he hasn’t known long. He’ll probably hide from you for a couple of weeks.”

  
“Well then, how am I supposed to know if he absolutely hates my food and is going to shoot me for it?” Stiles groaned, leaning back in the chair.

  
“He wouldn’t shoot you for that!” Scott laughed.

  
“Allison said that he shot the last cook though.” Stiles frowned.

  
“He did, but part of that might have been because he was a real Dangler (4)” Scott shook his head. “The guy was making every woman on deck uncomfortable. Derek asked him to leave, and the guy challenged him. Bad mistake on his part.”  
Stiles nodded. “Even so, I still don’t know how any of this works. Where am I supposed to sleep tonight? The galley? Where am I supposed to get more clothes?”

  
“I slept in the surgery my first night on board.” Scott laughed. “But don’t worry, you have me. I’ll help you Stiles. It won’t be that bad. I’d bet good money that at the end of this week, you’re as comfortable as a foot in a boot.”

 

1 – God bless her soul  
2 – The Polish Aristocracy  
3 – Testicles. The equivalent of “Balls!”  
4 – A man who is prone to following women

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed! As always, any comments or criticisms are wholly welcome, and hopefully sometime later this week I'll have some more plot focused updates!


	4. A Most Awkward Encounter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles is awful at communicating.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that this is mostly filler! More notes at the end!

            That night, Stiles sighed as he looked up at the underside of Matt. He was laying in his bunk and attempting to fall asleep, but nobody else seemed to be settling down for the night. Allison and Scott were tipping the velvet in the corner while Liam and Mason played Pope Joan on top of a barrel. Lydia was in her bunk reading a book, Jackson attempting to talk to her at the same time while Danny laughed at his attempts.  Derek was locked in his study.  According to the crew, he didn’t usually sleep in his study, but Stiles hadn’t seen hide nor hair of him since he has come down to the barracks. 

            “You’re thinking too much.”  Erica hummed, coming to sit on the floor next to Stiles’ bunk.

            “Stiles hummed quietly, not really feeling like talking.

            “The first day’s always hard Stiles.”  Erica sighed, putting a hand on Stiles’ arm.  “It may feel like you’re a prisoner right now, but I felt like that at first too. Being brought onto this ship was the best thing that ever happened to me.  Talia could tell when people needed the ocean, and if she picked you to come on the ship, she knew you needed it too.”

            “Well, maybe I needed it eight years ago!  I don’t need it now!”  He frowned. “What I need now is to be home and taking care of my dad, and finishing my apprenticeship. That’s what I need.”

            “She’s right Stiles.”  Boyd hollered from where he had joined Liam and Mason.

            “Do you even know what we’re talking about?”  Stiles asked, his eyebrows furrowing.

            “No. But Erica’s always right.” Boyd shrugged. “I’ve come to terms with it. You should too.”  
            Stiles groaned and rolled over, facing away from Erica. 

            Erica put her hands on her hips and frowned.  “Stiles, there are plenty of people in the world whose lives are very hard, and yours is not one.  You have food to eat, a place to sleep, clothes, and good company. I know that you don’t want to be here right now, but you’re never going to earn your way off of this ship if you’re so difficult.  This crew will do nothing but help you.

            Stiles didn’t roll over, he just closed his eyes and pretended to be asleep, even though Erica already knew he wasn’t.

            “If you ever want help, come find me.”  Erica rolled her eyes, walking back towards Boyd.

            Stiles felt sick as his thoughts started whirring around in his brain. He felt bad for being rude to Erica, but he really had been kidnapped.  He didn’t want to be here!  It was all Derek’s fault for coming to abduct him.  He didn’t have to collect on that debt!  He would have been fine without that money.   Stiles sighed, attempting to release the pressure in his head. It took a good hour, but eventually, Stiles’ mind fell fuzzy with sleep, and he felt his consciousness drift away.

 

 

Stiles woke up to the sound of metal clanging on metal.  He jumped, sitting straight up in his bunk, causing the hammock to sway side to side uncomfortably.  He rubbed his eyes and opened them to see deep green-blue-yellow eyes under angry dark eyebrows.

“Breakfast.” A voice stated, low and angry.

“Huh?”  Stiles mumbled, before he realized where he was.  He was on a pirate ship, looking into the eye of a very angry Captain.  “Pierdolić! (1)”  Stiles cursed, falling to the ground.

“Where is breakfast?”  Derek asked again, crossing his arms, the faintest hint of a smirk on his face.

“I-I forgot.”  Stiles admitted, face going paler than usual.

“Don’t forget again.”  Derek gritted out, shoving a bowl into Stiles’ hands, before turning on his heel and walking back up to the upper deck.              

Stiles looked down at the porridge, wincing at the look of it.  It was grey, and chunky.  Stiles’ stomach turned and he set the porridge aside, standing up and stretching out.  His back and shoulders hurt from the hammock, and his heart was still pounding from his encounter with the Captain.              

Stiles climbed the stairs to the top deck and winced at the bright light.  It was about an hour before midday.  Stiles started in shock.  He had slept much too long. He rushed to the kitchen and threw on the apron.  He pulled out the hard tack, rotten vegetables, and the meat.  He quickly picked out the maggots he could get to, chopped up the meat, and threw it in a pan with salt and thyme.  He grabbed the vegetables and started chopping them, wincing at the overripe smell.  He threw them into the pan too, hoping to cook them long enough that they really soaked up the salt and thyme.                

An hour went by quickly, and he rang the bell just as Derek stomped down the stairs, eyebrows in a deep V.  His eyebrows returned to their original positions when he heard the ringing, and then his face went back into its usual scowl.  He thrusted his bowl into Stiles’ chest.  Stiles flushed in embarrassment at being late with lunch too.  He quickly heaped the food into Derek’s bowl, looking down in an attempt to appease the angry captain.                

Derek grabbed his bowl and turned, not saying a word to Stiles.  The rest of the crew filtered through the line at their own paces.  When everyone but Cora and Matt had eaten, Stiles grabbed the couple of bowls stored in the galley and filled them with food.  He took the first one to Matt who was standing watch while the rest of the crew ate.              

Stiles tapped Matt’s shoulder as her looked off the prow of the boat.  Matt turned and looked over Stiles.              

“You’re Polish, right?  And you can write English?”

“Yes.”  Stiles nodded a little apprehensively.  “Did you need me to write something for you or something?”              

“No.”  Matt shook his head.  “Have you ever fought someone?”              

“No…But I probably won’t need to, right?  I’m just the cook.”              

“Yes, let’s go with that.”  Matt scoffed, turning away abruptly.              

Stiles left, a weird feeling in his stomach.  Matt unsettled him.  He seemed a little off compared to the rest of the crew, not that Stiles had known anyone on the crew very long.  Stiles shook his head and walked to Cora’s door.              

“Derek?”  Came a call from inside the room              

“No, it’s Stiles.  I brought your food.”              

“Oh, yes.”  Cora unlocked the door, stepping back toward where she had been looking over a map.  “Have you ever had to break a code?”  Cora asked with a sigh, gesturing to the map.              

“I can’t say that I have.”  Stiles shook his head.  “Are you trying to break a code?”              

“Yes.  My mother left it for Laura, Derek, and I.”  Cora sighed.              

“Is Laura your older sister?  I think I might have met her before.”  Stiles hummed in thought, thinking back to his interaction with a dark haired girl older than him who had claimed to be the daughter of Talia Hale.              

“Yes, she decided to settle down.”  Cora rolled her eyes.  “She met a fisherman and decided to stop pirating, even though it’s been what she’s done for her entire life.”  Cora scoffed.  “I can’t even begin to imagine Laura trying to sew or knit, or cook.”              

“Do you wish she hadn’t settled?”  Stiles asked curiously, handing over the food.              

“I-“ Cora hesitated a moment, but then sat and sighed.  “Yes and No.  If she was still here, Derek wouldn’t feel like he had all this stress to find – er – break mother’s code.”  Cora took a bite of the food and winced, causing Stiles to flush in shame.  “But on the other hand, I don’t want Laura to be unhappy.”              

“Do you not like the food?”  Stiles blurted out before he could stop himself.  He winced, hoping that Cora wouldn’t be upset about the complete and utter change in topic.              

“Actually, it’s considerably better than the last cook.  I can’t wait to see how your food will taste once we actually get fresh food.”  Cora admitted, shuddering through another bite.              

“Do you know when we’ll be stopping for more food?”  Stiles asked curiously.              

“Yes, but I don’t know that Derek would appreciate me relaying his plans to you.”  Cora hummed and then grinned.  “So we’re probably stopping tonight.”              

Stiles nodded, smiling a little.  “It’ll be nice to work with something other than hard tack, rotten vegetables, meat, and thyme.”    

“It’ll be nice to taste something other than that too.  The Sauerkraut was a nice change though.  Even if Derek didn’t seem like he liked it, I know that he did. “                

“Thanks.”  Stiles smiled, backing out.  “I should probably get back to work for supper.”  He waved a little.  “It was nice talking to you though, Miss Cora.”               

“Just call me Cora.  Please.  Honestly I don’t even know why Derek insists on having people call him captain, much less calling me miss.  I know he hates it when people call him captain…”               

Stiles’ eyebrows furrowed in curiousity.  “Yes, that does seem strange.”  He hummed, stepping through the door frame.  “I’ll talk to you more at supper perhaps?”               

“Probably.”  Cora nodded.  “You should ask Derek how many servings to make.  He usually takes his crew out to the mainland and they eat there.”  Cora offered, getting up and closing the door.               

Stiles’ stomach sunk with the thought of having to talk to Derek.  The man already hated him, so this was going to be absolute torture.               

Stiles put it off as long as he could, preparing enough meat for the entire crew just in case, then salting it heavily to keep the maggots out, hopefully anyways.  Eventually though, he knew that he needed to talk to Derek and ask.  Stiles cautiously approached the wheel where Derek was leaned to the side, looking at a compass, and then up at the sun.               

“Um, Derek?”  Stiles asked cautiously, immediately after remembering what Cora had said.  “Er—sorry.  I meant Captain.”               

Derek’s face fell from the more relaxed scowl into a deep scowl, eyebrows furrowing.               

“I just wanted to ask whether you were going to go into the port and eat or not, and who you were going to take with you to eat.  See, Cora said that you usually go into the port, and I didn’t want to waste your food.”  He babbled, a sinking feeling gathering in his stomach as he just kept talking.               

“Just stop!”  Derek growled, putting one of his large hands over Stiles’ mouth.  “I’m taking most of the crew, including my sister, into port, and I’m not leaving you here with Liam, Mason, and Matt.  You’re coming with us.”  He scowled. “So just make enough for three.”               

“Uh.  Yes.”  Stiles nodded dumbly, a flush spreading over his cheeks.  The was probably the most words he’d heard Derek say the entire time he’d been on board.               

Derek stared at Stiles, for a good minute before Stiles remembered that he was supposed to be making food for the three staying behind.               

“Oh, yes…well, I guess I’ll just go and cook…”  Stiles awkwardly nodded, turning and making his way back to the galley.  He felt Derek’s eyes on his back and internally groaned, knowing that that social interaction could have gone infinitely better than it did.               

“And Stiles-“  Derek called from the wheel.               

Stiles turned, waiting for Derek to say something awful, or whip out a pistol, or something dreadful.               

“-Don’t talk to my sister.”               

Stiles nodded an affirmation and backed away, scurrying into the galley and immediately planting his face in the wooden walls, groaning with how terribly that had gone.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (1) A polish word for fuck.
> 
> I am so incredibly sorry. :( I said I would update it like 50 days ago, but that's college for you. I'm going to try and get back on track, as maybe two days after the last chapter was posted, I actually hurt my eye and was advised not to look at screens for too long, as the eye was pretty photophobic. Then all this other bullshit happened, and long story short, I was very busy. Now that the semester is coming to a close I'm getting a little more free time, believe it or not, so I will be trying my darndest to update at least once a week. Also, we'll be getting to part of the plot in the next part! (Yes, there is a plot, I promise.) As always, any constructive criticism and comments are appreciated!
> 
> Also, one last thing! I went back and made the previous chapters more readable, so hopefully that helps!!! :)


	5. Derek can Talk?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek and Stiles finally get some time to have a small conversation as the crew readies to head ashore.

            Derek sighed as Cora paced her room.

            “I want to come with you Derek.” Cora crossed her arms. “You can’t just expect me to stay in this room.”

            “You’ve been fine so far. You come out with the crew all the time.” Derek argued.

            “Not recently though. You’re so scared that a single new person on the crew is going to suddenly make the crew entirely unstable, and somehow I’ll get hurt. I could best this Stiles boy with my eyes closed.” Cora argued. “I can fight just fine. There is no reason why I shouldn’t be able to go to the port with you and the crew. Even if I were to be completely helpless, this crew is as loyal to you as possible. I know that any one of them would stand for me if anything were to happen.”

            “This is not about your fighting skills Cora.” Derek groaned, sitting on the chair by Cora’s desk. “I think we have a nose (1) in our midst.”

            “Why do you think that?” Cora sighed, rolling her eyes.

            “I talked to Peter’s correspondent the last time that we were at port, and he seemed like he was attempting to get information about mother’s treasure from me.” Derek explained, rubbing a hand over his eyes.

            “They always do that though.” Cora threw a hand in the air in exasperation. “You’re just finding reasons to keep me on the ship.

            “No, he knew about the code. He knew we had both you and Lydia working on the code. That’s why you’re both staying on the ship.” Derek frowned. “If Peter knows about the code, then somebody had to have told him.”

            “It’s either Jackson or Matt then.” Cora said automatically. “They were both sent here by Peter, and they both aren’t exactly attached to the crew.”

            Derek shrugged. “We can’t say that yet. Peter may have wanted us to think that. It’s very possible that one of the other crew members could be the spy as well. I wouldn’t have put it past Peter to plan this before mother’s death even.”

            Cora was silent for a moment. “Okay.” She allowed softly, looking on the clock on her wall. “You have to leave soon. I’ll agree to stay on the ship for now, but when you get back, we are going to talk about this Nose, and figure out what to do about it. I’m not staying on this ship forever just because some fool can’t keep his mouth shut.”

            “Who says it’s a man?” Derek asked, eyebrows raised.

            “Of me, Kira, Allison, Erica, and Lydia, do you think any of us would be a spy? I still think it’s either Jackson or Matt.”

            Derek looked Cora in the eye. “I have no idea who it is. For all I know, it could even be Boyd. Every single member of the crew that isn’t a Hale is a suspect.”

            “Except Stiles.” Cora sighed.

            Derek stopped. “Except Stiles.” He agreed quietly.

            “But then again, I suppose if mother was right, he might be a Hale soon enough anyways.” Cora taunted, attempting to relieve the pressure in the room.

            Derek rolled his eyes, but flushed anyways. “If mother’s…prediction, gets to the crew somehow, I swear, I’ll send you to a convent.”

            Cora rolled her eyes. “No you wouldn’t. Go have fun without me then.” She waved him off. “Bring me back something nice.”

            Derek shut the door and sighed, turning to make his way to the galley, dreading talking to the young man within.

            Talia Hale was an extremely intelligent woman. She had this instinct where she just knew how people worked. Somehow she had found a little Polish boy, and decided that this young child would get along well with Derek. Possibly even steal his heart. She hadn’t ever told Derek before her death, but she had told Laura. Laura had decided that it was essential that Derek go collect Stiles’ debt, even though it wasn’t on Derek’s radar at all. Derek knew that both she and Cora were expecting him to sweep the Polish boy off his feet, but Derek had better things to worry about, and none of them were the boy’s moles, or whisky colored eyes.

            Derek pulled himself out of his thoughts and looked back to the galley. He rang the bell, summoning the crew to the deck. He was silent until the entire crew, minus those who were staying on board the ship, were gathered in front of him.

            “So, what’re we waiting for Captain?” Erica asked, leaning on a nearby barrel. “Are we ready to go?”

            “Just a couple reminders.” Derek nodded. “Nobody is to go anywhere in port alone, make sure you don’t drink so much you pass out, and make sure—“

            “Yes, yes.” Jackson rolled his eyes. “You say the same thing every time we go ashore, Captain.”

            “Shut your mouth, ya bloody muck snipe (2)” Erica rolled her eyes. “You’re lucky that the Captain doesn’t make you stay on the ship.”

            Derek sighed. “Be safe, be smart. Get back here by three hours past sun down.”

            Immediately the crew grumbled loudly, even Erica groaning loudly.

            “Crew.” Derek said demandingly, crossing his arms. “We’ll stop again in a week or so. Tonight is primarily a supply trip. In, out, and back on the ship. We will be leaving at exactly three and a half hours after sun down, whether you’re on the ship or not.” With that, he turned making his way into the galley to grab Stiles.

           

 

            Stiles rushed around, putting the last couple bowls of food together and leaving them on the counter in the galley. He knew that they were leaving soon, as he had heard the hooting, hollering, and stomping of boots on deck above him. He turned quickly, Cora’s food in hand and just about jumped out of his skin.

            “Oh, sorry. I just needed to take food to your sister.” He chanced a smile, internally sighing when the captain’s face didn’t even twitch away from his typical scowl. “Um…” Stiles shifted uneasily on his feet. Derek was standing in the doorway, blocking his route to Cora’s room. “If you’ll just…excuse me.” Stiles squeeze past Derek awkwardly, jogging off toward Cora’s room. He knocked gently.

            Cora opened the door fairly quickly and smiled when she saw Stiles.

            “It looks like you’ve got a shadow Stiles.” She smirked cheekily.

            Stiles’ eyebrows furrowed in confusion, before he looking behind himself and jumped when he saw Derek not three feet behind him.

            “Erm…yes.” Stiles nodded a little nervously.

            “Oh please.” Cora rolled her eyes, taking the food from Stiles. “If you manage to somehow get him to relax tonight, I’ll pay off half of your debt myself.” Cora shook her head. “He’s getting so uptight that I’m afraid that I’ll wake up one day and he’ll have just transformed into a board, as stiffly as he holds himself.”

            Stiles chuckled quietly, flushing guiltily when he remembered that Derek was behind him. “Yes, so…I’ll just be on my way then.” Stiles nodded to Cora and pivoted on his foot to take the tray back to the galley.

            “Derek, please relax. Stiles looks like he’s going to pass out. I don’t think that’s any way to treat a guest on our ship, now is it?” Cora sighed.

            “He’s here to pay off a debt, he’s not a guest.” Derek grunted, before turning to follow Stiles back to the galley.

            “So…how exactly is this going to work?” Stiles asked curiously. “I’m assuming that you don’t want to leave me alone, as at any time, I could simply sprint off and swim hundreds of miles back to St. Kitts.” He quipped.

            “You’re to stay with me.” Derek grunted.

            Stiles’ eyes widened a little, surprised by Derek’s actual, vocal response to the gibe.

            “Yes sir.” Stiles hummed a little as he washed the dishes from making dinner. “I heard you tell your crew that this is supposed to be a supply stop. Will you be picking up any more food?”

            “That’s your job.” Derek shrugged, picking at one of his nails. “You’re going to be responsible for picking out rations for the crew for the next three weeks.”

            Stiles nodded. Shopping for a household came to him as easily as breathing. Hopefully shopping for a whole pirate ship came just as easily.

            “We’re leaving immediately. Matt, Mason, and Liam will come down to get their meal in their own time.” Derek turned on his heel and left the galley.

            Stiles laid the last dish back in its place and quickly followed after Derek. He stuck close to Derek as they left the ship and made their way into the small port.

            “De—er—Captain, buying food won’t take that long, so what exactly do you intend to do when that’s been delt with?” Stiles asked curiously.

            “We will go to the Tavern and watch over the imbecilic dogs I call a crew.” Derek grunted.

            Stiles couldn’t help chuckling at that.

            “I may have only been on your ship for a couple days, but I know for a fact that you absolutely adore your crew.” Stiles hummed, tugging at the hem of his shirt where it was riding up.

            “How could you know?” Derek gruffly looked Stiles over as they walked toward the general store. “You’re always in the galley.”

            “But I see your crew before bed. They talk about you kindly, like you’ve personally saved all of them from the most boring lives. I’ve also talked with Cora, before you told me not to, and even though she seemed annoyed with you, she also acted like you were a man who was very noble.” Stiles explained.

            “So? You still must hate me. After all, I was the one who took you away from your father, and now I’m forcing you to make my meals.” Derek shot back, not happy about the fact that Stiles already seemed to know his crew a little too well, when it had taken him years to gain some of their trust.

            “I suppose so.” Stiles nodded. “I will get back to my father.   I have to.” Stiles shrugged. “And somehow, I feel like picking me up and making me repay my debt was not your personal preference, seeing as you seem to positively abhor me, but still have not shot me or thrown me overboard.”

            “I don’t abhor you.” Derek protested before he could think better of it.

            “You don’t even know me.” Stiles rolled his eyes, stepping ahead of Derek and into the general store.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (1) A “Nose” is slang for a Spy.  
> (2) When Erica says “you bloody muck snipe” it roughly translates to “you fucking vagrant”
> 
> \-----
> 
> UGH I'm sorry it took forever to get this up. I've been really busy and blah blah blah. This isn't the best chapter I've ever written, but I at least wanted to get something out there before I let myself start to work on any of the little ideas I've had over break. When school starts up again, I hope to be able to get into a more regular posting schedule! Until then, I'll try to update at least one more time! :)
> 
> Thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed!


	6. A Most Successful Trip

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles and Derek's trip to the General Store works out rather well.

Derek scowled as he followed Stiles into the General Store. This kind was pissing him off, that’s for sure. He knew that he wasn’t the most social of men, but he wasn’t cruel. Most pirates would have just killed Stiles, or maybe sold him. Hell, most pirates wouldn’t have tried to save his mother in the first place. Pirates tended to be like dragons, hoarding every gold coin they came across. The train of thought immediately led Derek to think of Peter. Peter would have killed Stiles that very first morning, if he hadn’t done so before then.

“Captain?” Stiles called, breaking Derek out of his thoughts. Derek turned his gaze from the sack of potatoes he’d been glaring at, back to Stiles who looked mildly annoyed. “Do you have a budget of some sort? Or am I meant to pay for this myself?” Stiles rolled his eyes.

Derek scowled at Stiles’ insolence. “You have four pounds to spend. Get as much food as possible. It needs to last a month at the very least.”

Stiles’ jaw dropped. Four pounds was...Stiles did the arithmetic in his head. Four pounds was eighty shillings. Enough for eighty good loaves of bread. Stiles took a mental count of what they already had. They had the about a pound of rotten vegetables left, but no meat. They had the sauerkraut and the hard tack, and a little bit of thyme, plus plenty of salt and about a keg of beer.

“Hurry up. We’ll need to get it back to the ship as quickly as possible.” Derek reminded Stiles.

Stiles nodded in reply and started looking at the prices of the food. He reached toward his pocket, where he’d normally keep his notebook, but sighed when he remembered that he didn’t have it. He’d have to do the arithmetic in his head. He picked up ten pounds of brown rice at half a shilling each, then five pounds of salted beef at a shilling each. He got six pounds of dried peas at half a shilling each, then picked at potatoes. Potatoes were expensive, but also filling, and they’d be able to be chopped and mixed into stews as well, so Stiles grabbed three pounds at three shillings each, causing Derek to frown behind him. Stiles hesitated, but kept going.

“Fruit.” Derek put a hand on Stiles’ shoulder. “You need to get fruit.”

“Fruit? For cooking?” Stiles asked in confusion. (1)

“No, the crew needs raw fruit.” Derek insisted. “At least a pound of it.”  
            Stiles reluctantly pointed to some oranges and told the Store’s owner he’d take a pound, at four shillings. Stiles went on to grab three barrels of beer at 10 shillings each, and then two more barrels of water. The last four shillings he spent on a little more hard tack, some onions, and some spices to use with all of the food.

“Is that everything?” Derek asked impatiently.

“Just a little more.” Stiles shook his head and brought everything up to Owner. “We’d like all these things.” Stiles nodded, then watched as the owner started adding up all the expenses. “Quick question sir.” Stiles put his chin on his hand as he leaned over the counter. “We’re buying so much from you, I don’t suppose you could cut us a bit of a break? You see I’ve only got three and a half pounds on me sir. I don’t suppose that you could take down the price a little?”

The owner looked dubious and Derek looked furious.

“Sir, I promise you, we know how great a quality your stock is, I promise. We’d be sure to share what a wonderful stock you’ve got here, if you’d be willing to cut us a little bit of a break. It isn’t much, not even a full pound or anything.” Stiles bartered. “I mean, I’m sure that if I absolutely needed to, I could go and ask the crew if they’ve half a pound to spare, but I don’t know that I’d be likely to come back here, if you’re so sour that you couldn’t help a fellow man out…”

The owner frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Well, it’s just as the bible says, help thy neighbor, right? It inn’t right to refuse a man help when he’s doing so much for you!” Stiles shook his head. “You look like a good man though. You go to church on Sunday?” He asked.

Derek, while still furious on the outside, was a little impressed inside. Stiles’ manner had completely changed, from his posture to his voice. The little bit of a Polish accent that Stiles normally had was gone, replaced by the halting British accent used by the majority of the sailors in the employ of the British government.

“Of course I go to church on Sunday!” The man looked a little taken aback.

“An’ you read the bible, right?” Stiles asked, putting just the slightest hint of accusation in his tone.

“Every night!” The man insisted proudly.

“Then, God’ll smile on you for helping your fellow man.” Stiles nodded, looking completely convinced of it.

“That’ll be three and a half pounds.” The owner held out a hand.

Stiles looked to Derek who handed over three and a half pounds from his purse, still glaring at Stiles.

“God be with you.”   The man nodded to Stiles. “Do you need someone to help you get these back to your ship? You don’t have a wagon I can assume.”

Stiles shook his head. “We can get it Sir. We’ll have the rest of the crew come carry some up too.

Stiles stepped outside, arms laden with sacks of food.

           “Do not do that again.” Derek growled, hefting one of the barrels up into his arms and starting toward the ship.

            “I saved you half a pound!” Stiles argued. “What do you mean don’t do it again?”

            “There was no need to. We had the money and that man may have needed that money. You can’t just go around swindling people out of their money.” Derek retorted.

            Stiles’ mouth dropped open and he leaned in close to Derek. “Says the pirate.” He whispered, looking around to make sure that nobody around them heard.

            Derek was silent, looking away.

            “Are you even a pirate? Because the entire time that I’ve been on your ship, you’ve done just about nothing pirate-esque, other than kidnapping me of course. You haven’t been plundering, or firing cannons at other ships, or anything!” Stiles rolled his eyes.

            “You hear to many stories.” Derek ground out, walking up the gangplank onto the ship and setting the barrel down just inside the Galley. “We need to go get the crew and have them carry up some of these barrels before they get too drunk to walk.”

            Stiles rolled his eyes, but followed anyways.

            They stepped into a tavern to see…not the raucous scene that Stiles was expecting. It was pretty quiet with most of the crew at the bar, drinking slowly and talking.

            “Crew.” Derek said simply.

            The crew all turned to face Derek immediately.

            “You’re all going to help carry the food up to the ship immediately. You can come back here after, but this needs done before you all get drunk.” Derek insisted.

            The majority of the crew nodded and gathered their things to get to the store and grab the supplies, but Jackson groaned.

            “We have to be back at three hours past sun-down AND we have to help with this shit?” He complained.

            “Just do it.” Derek growled.

            Stiles stepped back a second when he swore he saw Derek’s eyes flash red.

            Jackson immediately got up, but pouted all the way to the General Store.

            Stiles picked up the bags of spices careful not to crush them or anything. Boyd, Scott, Derek, and Isaac picked up the barrels of beer and water with ease, surprising Stiles. Derek and Boyd he could see, but Scott and Isaac, with their smaller forms was a bit of a surprise. Jackson picked up the smaller barrel that held all the meat, while Lydia, Danny, and Allison helped pick up everything else. They all trekked toward the ship together, making small talk. Derek set his barrel down just outside the galley this time and motioned for everyone else to do the same.

            Jackson, you’ll be in charge of helping Stiles arrange these as needed when we get back here tomorrow, so don’t drink to much.” Derek warned, the beginnings of a smug little smile on his face.

            Stiles stifled a laugh when Jackson’s face got all red and he turned, stomping off in a huff.

            The rest of the crew was not so kind, everyone laughing at Jackson as they also started back toward the tavern.

            Derek stepped off the boat, motioning for Stiles to follow. Stiles rolled his eyes, but kept following Derek.

            They stepped into the Tavern again, where everyone had assumed their previous positions. Derek sat down at a table in the corner and just watched his crew silently.

            Stiles had a problem with that. A huge problem with that. He was able to sit there, completely still for about five minutes before his leg started bouncing up and down.

            “Stop.” Derek grunted, gesturing to Stiles’ leg.

            “I cannot just sit here.” Stiles groaned. “We’re going to be here for at least five more hours. I can’t just sit for that long.”

            “Yes you can, you’re not a child.” Derek rolled his eyes.

            “No, I promise that I can’t.” Stiles stood up. “I’m going to go talk to the crew.” Stiles huffed, stomping off to sit next to Lydia who was sipping at a glass of Champaign.

            “I didn’t know bars usually served Champaign.” Stiles hummed, putting his head on his hand and he looked at Lydia’s glass.

            “They don’t. I brought my own.” Lydia held up her bottle. “I don’t drink beer.”  
            “What do you drink on the ship then?” Stiles asked, a little bit aghast.

            “Wine. And water. I have my own stores of it.” She explained.

            “Does Derek know that?” Stiles asked curiously.

            “I’ve never told the Captain, but I’m pretty sure that he does know.” Lydia laughed. “And you should probably start calling him captain.”

            “I don’t know…it just feels weird.” Stiles shrugged. “I mean…I knew his mom…she was a captain too, but still, she always felt like she was more Talia than Captain. I think it’s the same way with Derek. He feels like more Derek than Captain.” Stiles tried to explain.

            “That makes absolutely no sense.” Lydia shook her head. “If he wants you to call him captain, you should call him captain.” She shrugged. “It’s not hard for me, and I’ve known him for a VERY long time.”

            “How did you come to be on this ship in the first place?” Stiles asked curiously.

            “I—” Lydia paused, before tucking a hair back into place in her elaborately braided hair. “I was accused of being a witch. When Talia’s brother, Peter was still gallivanting around Europe, she had sailed over there to check on him, and convince him to join her fleet, rather than sailing with just the few members of his crew. Peter found me, and he…well, he took me on his ship, but I hated it. A lot. I fear what would have happened if Talia hadn’t met with him that same day, and insisted that I join her crew instead. They almost had an actual fight over me. I remember that I was so scared, and that here was this woman, not much larger than me, who was so intimidating, but I still felt like if I was going to be with anyone on their crew, I wanted it to be her, because she just exuded the feeling of safe.” Lydia shook her head. “Anyways, after Talia passed, and Laura left to start her new life on the main land, I followed Derek. I wasn’t going to stay with Peter. That was for sure.”

            Stiles nodded. “That makes sense. So it was a lesser of two evils thing?”  
            “No, not at all.” Lydia shook her head. “Derek’s not evil. He’s actually really kind.”   Lydia glanced behind Stiles shoulder and sighed. “But that’s enough for now. I think I’m going to get a little fresh air. Allison?”

            Allison hopped down from the stool she had been sitting on and stepped between Scott’s legs, giving him a deep kiss, and then a short peck on the cheek. “I’ll be back in a bit.” She promised him before turning and grabbing Lydia’s hand to step outside with her.

            Stiles scooted over toward Scott, watching as the two ladies’ stepped through the door.   “Shouldn’t somebody go with them? To make sure they’re safe?”

            “Why do you think Lydia took Allison?” Scott chuckled, handing Stiles a drink.

            “I don’t have money to pay for this.” Stiles admitted, attempting to give it back to Scott.

            “It’s fine. Consider it a welcome to the crew.” Scott smiled.

            Stiles smiled back, a thought at the back of his head. He wasn’t crew. He didn’t want to be crew.

           

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that the updates have been a bit fewer and a bit far between. :( I'm working on a lot of other projects right now, and they're all a ton of fun! I've kind of been looking at the number of subscriptions each in-progress story has, and deciding when to update based on that! So essentially, I'm actually updating really often, just not all on one story. :) This chapter was a lot of fun to write, and I think I'm really getting my mojo back with this story. ;P
> 
> In any case, as always, and comments and/or constructive criticisms are hugely appreciated!
> 
> Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed! :)
> 
>  
> 
> Come visit me on tumblr at http://sterekrunningerrands.tumblr.com/ :)

**Author's Note:**

> As always, any comments or criticisms are appreciated! Thanks for reading!


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